VYCO
by Chronic Obsession
Summary: V.Y.C.O. : Vigilant Youths Combating Oppression. You take five average (ish) teenagers, put them all in a classroom together, and then you have the nerve to be surprised as they refuse to take part in this...what ever this so called group is supposed to be. Oh well. They'll come around soon enough.


**Chapter 1: The Beginning  
**

**Verona High School Football Field**

**Friday  
**

**4:00 PM**

The music ends with a resounding boom as all the cheerleaders land in sync with each other. LeShawna lets out a breath of relief. Finally. It's the best they've ever done since this summer. She has the routine down pat. There were no major slip ups, even Sadie managed to get to her spot without tripping. There's no way Coach O'Halloran has anything to complain about.

"That...was sloppy! Just disgraceful!" LeShawna sighs. Of course. After all, it was _only _September. "Sadie, what the hell was that? What, did the chaffing of your thighs distract you from the fact that you were off by two beats? Ugh, you all make me sick! Take a ten minute break and then we'll run the routine five more times!" Instantly, LeShawna breaks away from the rest of the girls to get her water bottle. She takes a healthy swig and wipes her mouth.

The things she does for popularity. Falls just short of selling her soul to the Devil.

"O'Halloran is right! My thighs do chafe!" Sadie leans onto Katie's shoulder and blubbers shamelessly. Lindsay comes forward and pats her on the head.

"Oh, Sarah. It's not your fault you're not as thin as the rest of us."

"Don't be dense Lindsay, of course it's her fault." Heather pushes her way through and pokes at Sadie with a long finger. She sneers at her in disgust, making her squirm uncomfortably. "Your weight is making us look bad. Maybe it wouldn't be this way if you weren't shoveling food into your face twenty-four/seven. It's called overeating. Look into it."

"Now, now, Heather," Leila Cooper eases her way into the circle, "I'm sure Sadie has her reasons for being overweight. Maybe she has a slow metabolism." Sadie nods vigorously.

"It's true, I do!"

Leila places her hands on Heather's shoulders which she quickly shrugs off. "Everyone is different and beautiful in their own way. Not every girl can be a size 3 teenaged dream." She flashes a smile towards the others. "Just keep drinking lots of water, Sadie. I'm sure something good will happen." She turns away and walks off, Lindsay and Heather following close behind.

Lindsay glances at Heather, confused, while Heather stares straight ahead. "Hey, Lillian. Did you really mean all those things you said to Sarah back there?"

"Duh. Of course not. Sadie needs to drop a pound or two...or twenty." She turns her head a bit to look at Heather, who as currently sniggering. "Why did O'Halloran let her on the team, again? I swear, this team's reputation is going down with every year..."

"Oh," Lindsay continued, "so, how come you're being nice to her, then?"

"Because popularity is a mix of likability and intimidation. You have to be nice to the losers. At least, this early in the school year. Especially _you,_ Heather." Heather makes a face, as if to say 'Me? Nice to the losers? Don't make me laugh.' Leila retorts with a look of her own, but Heather is already looking in another direction. At the girl who is sitting on the bench drinking her water. LeShawna.

"Speaking of losers..." She jabs a thumb over towards LeShawna. "Why is she even on the team at all? She doesn't even talk to anyone here."

"Oh, Heather. I'm sure she's not that bad."

"Trust me. When you've gone to elementary school and junior high with her, then you'll understand."

"I don't know. LeQuesha was always nice to me, so I don't know what your problem is with her."

"Oh shut up, Lindsay. I don't want her on this team. Like Sadie, she doesn't belong. We just hate each other, and that's it. No explanation needed."

LeShawna rolls her eyes and takes another sip of her water as she listens to Katie and Sadie prattle on to some poor girl about how similar they are. Freshmen. She hopes that she wasn't that bad last year. Then again, she didn't have anyone to talk to on the team last year. In fact, she still doesn't have anyone to talk to on the team this year. Which is just fine with her. The girls here aren't her usual kind of people that she talks to. And she hopes that it'll stay that way.

Her thought are cut short when Coach blows her whistle, signaling that the ten minutes are up.

"Alright, ladies! Back into your positions, so that we can run the routine again, and again...and again..."

* * *

**Verona High School Parking Lot**

**Friday **

**4:45 PM**

Gwen trudges out of the school, with her sketchbook in hand. Once again, she and that weird junior from her gym class were the only ones that showed up for Art Club. And once again, he tried hitting on her. This time she kicked him in his groin. Yeah, she doesn't think he'll be retuning to the club any time soon. Good for her. Bad for the club.

_"There's always next time..._"Mrs. Phillips' voice rings in her head. Except, there probably isn't going to be a next time, with only one member of the club. _"Don't you have any friends that enjoy the arts like you do, Gwen?" No,_ she replied. Which is quite true. She has friends, but they just don't get the sheer joy of sitting in a room for two hours just working on a piece of art that would probably not be appreciated by the general school population.

She would be out here at 5:00, usual, but Mrs. Phillips has personal business to tend to. And so, she has fifteen or so minutes before she's absolutely obligated to go home, along with everyone else.

She's about to go over to a bench to sit, when she's suddenly bumped harshly by a boy passing by, harsh enough to shove her to the ground.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, jerk!"

The boy turns around, his face instantly apologetic. "Oh, hey, sorry." He bends down and offers a hand. "Didn't see you there. Need some help?" The boy gives her a tiny smile, but Gwen refuses to take the hand, instead standing up on her own and dusting herself off. "I'm Trent."

"That's nice, but why should I care?"

"Uh..."

"Do you mind? You're kind of in the way of me getting home." She flashes a glare at him before brushing by him, walking off school grounds and not giving him a second thought.

Trent sighs, goes to a bench, and pulls his guitar out of the case. He strums a few chords before clearing his throat and humming to himself as he plays.

Well, there's always next time...

* * *

**Verona High School Parking Lot**

**Friday **

**4:51 PM**

Duncan leans against the dumpster and drums his fingers on the side lightly. He's proud of himself. In this week alone, he's gotten a teacher so riled up that they fainted, humiliated six losers, and placed itching powder in the cheerleader's uniforms. He sighs. He sees Harold and Cody walking past him and a smirk slides onto his face.

Life has been good to him this week, but he thinks it could get a little better right now.

"Hey, dorkwads!" Harold and Cody freeze in their tracks. Duncan motions for them to come over here. "I wanna show you something!" When they don't respond right away, he grabs them and drags them towards the dumpster. "You know what this is, boys? A dumpster. You know what's going in there? You two dweebs!" He laughs deviously as they try to run away, but the grip on them is too strong. He picks up the two of them one by one and tosses them into the dumpster all too easily. His laughter only grows at their girlish shrieks.

"Oh man, I always love messing with you dorks."

His fun is soon cut off by Principal McLean bursting open the doors and marching over to him. "Duncan Harris!"

"Hey there, Chris. How's it going?"

"Look here, Duncan boy. Normally I couldn't care less about you tossing nerds into dumpsters, but next week. We have important administrators from the school district coming to observe this school. And I don't need you making the school look bad. Because if the school looks bad then I look bad! And that's the most important thing!"

"Clearly."

"So, now I'm going to start being a little more disciplined. This week at least. And I'll start by giving you detention. Thursday."

"Ok...cool." Principal McLean flashes him a smile before walking back into the school.

"Hah, hah! Joke's on you! You got detention!" Harold starts snickering to himself and Cody soon joined in.

"Oh shut it." He slams the lid of the dumpster onto them, muffling the sound of their laughter soon turning into complaints. The sound of their whining is music to Duncan as he walks away. "Losers..."

* * *

**Verona High School Parking Lot**

**Friday **

**5:07 PM**

Bridgette huffs as she walks out of the school. That is the last time that she ever gets Isabel Glover to tutor her in math. Far too confusing, and even if she had a different tutor, she would probably not understand it.

She sighs, as she leans against a fence. Oh well...she could try again next week. But then she snorts to herself. Yeah, a week is really going to make a difference.

Hm. Her mother should be here by now. Bridgette hopes that she didn't get lost. She wouldn't blame her, though. It _is_ significantly bigger than the last town they were at.

She's eased out of her thoughts as she hears giggling from behind. When she turns around, she sees a group of girls walking. She thinks that they are freshmen, like her. "Weird." What are they doing here this late after school. Bridgette doesn't think they are in any activities, but then again, she shouldn't assume.

"Come on, come on! I think he's still here!" One blonde girl exclaims as her friends skip along with her. Who? Who's still here? Curiosity getting the better of her, she trails behind the group, unbeknownst to them.

When she does find out what they're so excited about, she's a little disappointed. It's just some guy playing his guitar on a bench. She has never understood the appeal of musicians quite as much as she probably should. She would vastly prefer a guy who could surf almost nearly as well as she could. But seeing as how the town she is in is landlocked, she doesn't think she'll be meeting anyone like that, boy or girl, anytime soon.

She thinks that the guy is singing something, but she can't exactly pick out the words over the obsessive shrieks and giggles of the girls in front of her. The music is good enough, Bridgette thinks. Nothing too special.

All the fun is soon drained when two cheerleaders approach him. One is blonde and smiling. The other has black hair and a scowl that sends shivers down Bridgette's spine. They look pretty important. She makes a mental note to not ever try interacting with them.

"Oh, hey, Lindsay." The boy flashes the blonde girl a smile, his eyes lingering on her. The black haired one clears her throat, demanding the boy acknowledge her presence as well. "Oh. Heather." He merely nods. "Shouldn't the two of you be with Leila, or something?"

"Leslie told us to am-scray while she talks to Brandon, her boyfriend. Tristan, do you know what that means?" Lindsay asks with genuine confusion.

"Well, it's Pig Latin. It-"

"Trent," Wait, so is his name Tristan or Trent? "What are you doing?" Heather places her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow. She shoots a glare over to the group, which is enough to get the girls to reluctantly go away. Bridgette turns around and notices that her mother still isn't here. She walks away a bit, but still close enough that she can pick up the conversation between the three of them.

"I _was_ entertaining a crowd."

"No. You were playing your stupid songs for a bunch of stupid freshmen girls. Don't you know how pathetic that is?"

"Uh-"

"Do you know how dangerous that is for your reputation? It's not enough that your songs sound like they should be targeted towards little girls, but you actually feel the need to play for little girls?"

"Well-"

"You need to step up your game and stop interacting with the freshmen, and also start writing better songs. Seriously, they're so sweet and sugary, they make my skin boil."

"Sorry, but-"

"Come on, Lindsay. We're leaving."

"Oh, okay. Bye, Trisha! Heather, can we go get ice cream?"

"No. You don't want ice cream. Ice cream makes you fat."

"Oh..."

"Hey, blondie!" Bridgette freezes up. She prays that Heather isn't addressing her. "You think you're being clever, with your back turned around?" She feels a figure come up to her. Two actually. "Eavesdrop much, freshie? Maybe you should run away before things get ugly." Bridgette doesn't move. "Well, what are you waiting for? Scram!" The volume of Heather's voice startles her so much, that she does start running, only to trip a few feet later. It earns bitter laughter from Heather and causes a blush to form on her face.

Slightly embarrassed, Bridgette decides not to run but instead to walk. Conveniently, her mother pulls up , saving her from further embarrassment. She opens the door and plops into the passenger's seat.

"Hi, honey. Who were those people you were talking to?"

"Just...some girls..."

"Aw..." Even though Bridgette isn't looking at her, she can hear the smile creeping into her voice. "Did you make some new friends?"

"...Yeah, sure. You could say that."

* * *

**Whoo boy! Hey guys! How's life been? Okay, let's just say that this story has been a year in the making. I originally planned on this chapter being a lot longer, but I instead decided to split it up. So yeah. Just think of this as my comeback of sorts.  
**

**Read and Review! Though I can already assume if you got to this point then you've read this chapter. So all you have to do now is review!**

**Until next time folks!**


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